


Still Standing

by still_lycoris



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Comfort Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 17:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17329508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Ide finds it hard being back in his flat after everything that's happened. Having Matsuda there doesn't help much. Aizawa helps a little more.





	Still Standing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12dayschristmas

Ide took Matsuda back to his own apartment in the end.

Perhaps he was being overcautious but he couldn't help feeling uneasy about Matsuda's state of mind. Matsuda had gone very, very quiet since they'd left the Yellowbox Warehouse. _Very_ quiet. Ide didn't think he'd been around Matsuda whilst he was quiet before. The man always had something to say. He might stop speaking for a little while but he would always start babbling again eventually.

But it hadn't happened yet. Matsuda had answered monosyllabically whenever someone had said something to him. Sometimes, he'd only shrugged, as though none of it mattered. It was so unlike him and Ide didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. 

So really, it made sense to bring Matsuda back to his flat rather than abandon Matsuda; in his own. Matsuda didn't resist. He shrugged his shoulders and followed and said nothing at all.

Ide couldn't remember the last time he'd been home for an extended period of time. He'd been staying in HQ for so long … it had mostly just been brief visits to collect clothes, to check that he hadn't left anything perishable in the fridge, to air things out a little before leaving again. It didn't really feel good to be back. Despite all his attempts, the air felt heavy, like nobody had been there for months, like it was a dead and empty place that couldn’t be revived. It was a stupid feeling but it sat and lurked as he moved around, turning lights on and off, trying to rustle up something for them to eat.

Not that Matsuda really ate it. He picked at the food, eyes dull and sipped at the tea but it was obvious that his heart wasn't in it. Ide wished he could think of something to say but what _could_ you say? “Sorry that you shot the man you've been admiring for years?” “Sorry that he turned out to a mass murderer?” “Sorry that you feel like you've let down the man you've been hero-worshipping since you came into the police force?”

Yeah. Like any of that would go down well.

So they sat in silence. When it became clear that Matsuda wasn't going to choke anything further down, Ide took it away and cleaned up, feeling dull and flat. When he was done, he dug out some sake and they drank it together, because it was better than staying sober.

At some point, Matsuda curled up on the couch and went to sleep. He looked small and miserable and Ide didn't know what to do. He fetched a blanket, tucked it gently over him, tried to slip a pillow beneath his head but Matsuda stirred and pushed him feebly away so he left it alone. 

He didn't want to go to bed. He didn't really know what he wanted to do with himself. He wandered around the flat that seemed almost like it belonged to someone else, tried to work out what he would do now.

It didn't feel like a win. It didn't feel like anything really. It felt like the world had just sort of stopped and they were still standing there, not sure what to do. Kira was dead, the other Kira was … neutralised … and they were going to have to make the world work again. Go back to work. Start speaking to people that weren’t the Taskforce. 

Someone knocked and Ide found himself jumping, then felt a fool for it. He glanced at Matsuda before he went to open the door but Matsuda hadn't even stirred. He looked almost unconscious rather than asleep. 

Aizawa was at the door. He looked as tired as Ide felt and managed a weak sort of smile when Ide let him in.

“Matsuda still with you?” 

“Asleep on the couch. He's not coping very well.”

“No. No, I'm not surprised.”

Aizawa rubbed his face. Ide suddenly realised how dark it was in the hall, reached out to turn the light on but Aizawa shook his head, so he didn't.

“I told them,” Aizawa sounded weary. “The Yagamis. I told them Light was dead.”

“How did it go?” Ide asked, stupidly. How could it go well? How could telling someone a relative was dead ever be fine, even if it was someone like Light, even if things had gone so terribly, terribly wrong …

“Sachiko-san cried,” Aizawa said flatly. “Sayu-chan didn't seem to really understand at first. Then, when I was going, she just … started screaming, screaming this God-awful scream, like she was _dying_ and I … I just couldn't do anything. I couldn't _do_ anything. I just had to leave, leave Sachiko-san with that noise and the knowledge that her son is dead and they've got … nothing and … fuck, it was fucking … ”

His voice shook softly and Ide stepped forward, put a hand on his shoulder. Aizawa shuddered slightly and for a moment, Ide thought his friend was going to cry. Aizawa didn’t cry, he just didn’t, he was the tough one, always had been, they’d been friends for years and Ide didn’t think he’d seen Aizawa cry even once. He’d seen him yell and fight and swear and hate and he’d seen him laugh and flush and even seen him squirming with want (oh, he’d seen that) but never cry. He didn’t want to see it.

He squeezed Aizawa’s shoulder and Aizawa brought a hand up to clutch his fingers. His hand was hot.

“This fucking … fuck this shit,” Aizawa said and his voice was rough now. “Just … fuck all of it.”

He yanked and Ide stumbled forward and then they were kissing each other, all teeth and tongue and it had been a long time, a really long time since they'd done this and Ide felt like he should have forgotten it but he hadn't, he hadn't forgotten a single minute of it. Aizawa's mouth was hot and his hands were hot too, pawing at Ide's back and chest and Ide squirmed with want for it because they were alive, they were _alive_ and everything was screwed up but they were both still fucking _here_ and he shoved his hands in Aizawa's hair and scratched at him and Aizawa moaned into his mouth and jammed him against the wall and Ide knew they weren't going to make it to a bed and he didn't care.

“Ide,” Aizawa muttered. “Ide, fuck, Ide … ”

He put his mouth to Ide's throat, feeling him all over and Ide had to try not to whimper. He was used to staying silent when he was with Aizawa, used to biting back words and cries but he'd never heard Aizawa so vocal before, never in all their times of secret meetings and needs fulfilled that they didn’t talk about after. 

“I want you,” he said and to his shock, Aizawa dropped onto his knees , fumbling at his flies. It was normally Ide who did this, normally Ide who knelt and sucked and Aizawa who groaned and wanted. This was different and it was ... it was ...

He wasn’t going to resist it. He half-fall against the wall again, one hand bracing himself on it, one clutching at Aizawa’s hair. Aizawa’s mouth was hot, hotter than his hands and it was clumsy and all the better for it because Ide knew Aizawa had never done this before, not like this and it mattered, that really fucking mattered and it was better than everything else in his head, better than the fucked up world around them and God, this ...

He didn’t know why he opened his eyes. He just did and they were used to the dark by then and he suddenly realised Matsuda was watching them.

He’d forgotten Matsuda was there. He’d forgotten Matsuda might hear, might sit up and look at his colleagues clinging together in the hall. And he should say, he should tell Aizawa because Aizawa wouldn’t want it but the heat was too much and he felt his hips jerk and he tried not to yell and then Matsuda had lain down again and by the time Aizawa was standing up, pressing their foreheads together, it seemed like it would only ruin everything to tell him and he didn’t want to spoil anything else, not today ...

They clung together silently for a few minutes before separating to sort themselves out. Aizawa gripped his shoulder silently, reassuringly, then left and Ide slumped against the door for a moment. He should speak to Matsuda, he knew, but he was so tired. The weight of the day ... he just wanted to lie down and sleep and not think. Not think about any of it.

He went to the couch. Matsuda had curled up again, his face hidden in his arms. He didn’t look up and Ide wondered what he could say anyway. It was all exhausting.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered and he wasn’t sure if he was talking about him and Aizawa or about anything else, about everything else. Matsuda made a tiny noise in his throat in response and that was all.

Right then, it would have to be enough.


End file.
